The 51st State
by Sere-san
Summary: First a base, then a territory, finally she gets the chance to become a state of America. However, things don't always happen the way one wants, right? ;-) What's going to happen to them? Who took them in the first place, and why? Read on to find out! Rated T for language. Warning: There may be fluffiness in later chapters!
1. Chapter 1

Hi everyone! I suppose it's only right to say that I don't own Hetalia in any way, shape, or form.

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As I take breaks from my other stories, I tend to go off on a tangent and wonder about random little things. Like, "did I remember to smack France over the

head before I left my house?"...or "did I turn off the tv? oopsie...". A while ago my mind had wandered _so_ far (_I vaguely recall seeing the sign "Welcome to _

_Uranus, please don't make fun of our name"_) , it came to mind that...what if there was a 51st state in America? What if that 51st state was in the Gulf of

Mexico? What if, what if, what if! Those damn "what if's" are back! Everyone run for you lives! *runs into a wall* Uh, heheh, ignore that last part. Well

anyways I decided that I wanted to write a little story about this 51st state. I had originally showed it to one of my friends and she thought it was really good

and kept pressuring me to post it *cough*Rachael*cough*. **Drum roll please!** *listens for drum roll*

Presenting: **MYLOVA**

* * *

Mylova sat across the table from America, nervously twiddling her thumbs as America reviewed her Constitution draft. When America sighed with a small

smile and placed the draft onto the table, Mylova straightened up, ready for whatever America threw at her.

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"I don't know what to say..." America laughed and scratched his head.

.

"You could say 'Bienvenidos a los Estados Unidos'," Mylova replied hopefully.

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"Well~...that's certainly one of my options." America seemed to teasing her, but Mylova kept her cool. "Though I think it's a good start, you still have some

corrections to make. For example, this needs to be written in English. A Spanish version of your constitution can come later." That confused Mylova and she

wrinkled her eyebrows together.

.

"But, I was for certain that I wrote it in íngles!" She pulled the paper over to her side of the table and stares at it.

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"Dude, in English there are no accent marks." America replied with a grin and he pointed out a few of Mylova's mistakes. There was an obvious one where it

was supposed to say Constitution, it said Constitución. Then another where there was supposed to be an "and", there was a "y".

.

"Oh dios mio, you must be kidding..." Mylova face-planted the table unhappily. As she brooded over the fails, a strange colorless and odorless gas started to

fill the enclosed room. America reached across the table and gave Mylova a gentle pat on the head.

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" 'S okay, dude. Do you know how many times Florida had to rewrite her state Constitution?"

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"Tres veces, she told me when I told her I was considering statehood." Mylova replied with a muffled voice.

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"Five actually, the most any of my states has ever had to do. Alaska came a really close second. She had to do it four times and on her final draft, she

misspelled Constitution. She spelled it Conshitution." Mylova snorted in an attempt to hold back laughter. America took that as an opportunity to continue.

"You'd be surprised to know that the only person who didn't have to resubmit a draft was New York, and he's not exactly one of the brightest. He's mostly

attitude and ego, so his intelligence meter is, on a scale of one to ten, a five."

.

"Ese estado no es muy inteligente, no?" Mylova looked up at America with a grin. "Pues, then how did he write a constitution without mistakes?"

.

"It was short and to the point, not long like the others' were." America replied and shook his head mockingly. Mylova laughed and, for the first time, noticed a

slight heaviness to the air.

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"América, does something feel off to you?" Mylova looked around the room to find the source of her uneasiness.

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"Now that you mention it, yeah I do." America stood up and quickly glanced around. "It's kind of...of like, like a-" America collapsed into his seat, out cold,

which made Mylova stand up in shock. The heaviness seemed to weigh on her head and chest, but she attempted to fight it off.

.

"América! América, estás bien?" She knelt down a little closer to him, but at the last moment her knees gave away and she hit her head on the side of the

table, quickly sinking into a state of unconsciousness.

* * *

Translations:

Bienvenidos a los Estados Unidos = Welcome to the United States

dios mio = my god

Tres veces = three times

Ese estado no es muy inteligente, no? = That state is not very intelligent, no?

Pues = well

estás bien? = are you okay?

.

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So that's all for now. Let me know how you like it! I like reviews ^.^ Reviews are awesomer than the awesomeness that is Prussia! If I make any mistakes

with my Spanish (or any future languages) please let me know so I can correct them! Basically I'm working off of three-ish years of Spanish, little to nothing

of Italian, English and Russian all my life, and a miniscule amount of German (which is going to change X3).

But down here, below this, is basically a little bit of background information on my OC, Mylova.

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Name: Mylova

Capital City: San Rica

First and Second Largest Cities:

-Agrilana

-Dalaveos

Official Language(s): English, Spanish

Location: The Gulf of Mexico

Date Accepted into the Union: 05/12/2017

Bio: Mylova was originally a naval base, then a territory of America. Since she's located in the Gulf of Mexico, Spanish is her main language and English is her

second. She has a longstanding friendship with the Island nations and Florida, as well as Mexico and Spain. Mylova has light brown hair and hazel eyes.

Generally she has a positive attitude and has a strong loyalty for her friends. She's the kind of girl that tries to find the good in everyone. However if you get

on her bad side (which by the way is **extremely hard**), she turns scary pretty quickly.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: The owning of the awesomeness that IS INDEED Hetalia, is not by me.

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Hi everyone! I know last chappie was really short, but it got you ready for the next couple chapters! They kind of vary in length to be honest, but I seriously wrote them just as they came to my mind. Well I hope you enjoy chapter 2! And because I love you all so much (as friends), I included translations underneath!

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Prussia: *jumps out from behind the couch* Und why am I not in this story?

Me: Because you're not important yet.

Prussia: Why is the awesome me not important?!

Me: O.O Cuz, uh...

Prussia: See, you don't even have a reason! *storms out of room*

Me: Wait! Will you forgive me for a beer?

Prussi: *turns head* Bier? Did you say bier?

Me: Yeah! all the beer you could drink!

Prussia: I love you! *grabs the beer and runs*

Me: *sighs* I still need him on my good side for now. Fyi, Prussia might make more appearances in later chapters -.- *walks into other room*

.

Also, try and guess their captors! I drop little hints here and there...try to pick them up! ^.^ Good luck!

* * *

Her head was throbbing and spots danced on her eyelids. Mylova stirred and made to get up, but a strong hand forced her back down.

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"Don't move, I need to stop the bleeding." America's voice ordered and a pressure on the side of her head increased, making her wince in pain. "Well

someone took a nasty fall. What did you do, get acquainted with the pointy side of something?"

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"Una mesa. I became friends with a table," Mylova couldn't help but laugh a little at her own joke.

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"Well that's good and all, but honestly I think floors make better friends than tables." America applied a little extra pressure, making Mylova gasp.

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"Speaking of which, where is mi pequeño amigo mesa?" Mylova glanced around with the little area her eyes could cover. "Better yet, dónde estamos?"

. _**(my little table friend...where are we?)**_

"Absolutely no idea. Somewhere that isn't Washington DC?" America thoughtfully said.

.

"Oh, well I was guessing that we aren't under the ocean, but I suppose "not in DC" certainly narrows it down." Mylova sighed and closed her eyes. She gently

shifted so her head rested on America's warm lap.

.

"Hey at least we're not drowning, right?" America attempted to lighten the mood a bit more.

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"Correction. I cannot drown, but you can. Island, remember?" With his freehand, America did a facepalm.

.

"Dude, I can't believe I forgot that Islands can't drown!" Then he frowned in thought. "Don't tell Britain I said that or he's gonna hold that over my head

forever." And then came an awkward silence that managed to live for about ten minutes, give or take.

.

"Pathetic! You call yourself a superpower? You haven't even tried to break out yet!" A loud voice (that was clearly sent through a voice distorter) echoed off

the walls of the medium sized room, making both America and Mylova jump in surprise.

.

"What the-?" America stuttered out, his voice an octave higher. Mylova realized she had lept back a few inches and was laying on America's vital regions,

which is probably why America's voice became shrill. With a furiously red blush, Mylova inched away ever so gently.

.

"Wh-who are you? What do you want with us?" She called out to the unknown person.

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"Eh, you were a mistake. It was America we were after." That statement should have relieved her, but instead it irked her. She really wasn't that important

enough to be kidnapped? Mylova quickly shook the absurd thought out of her head.

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"You said "we". There's more than just you?" America deduced, his voice coming down a bit.

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"It seems as though you're not completely devoid of brain-cells, America." America's hand increased pressure and it took Mylova every bit of self-control she

had to keep from yelling out from the pain. Obviously America didn't mean to hurt her, but Mylova was starting to consider slapping him once he took his

hand off her head.

.

"Well I suppose it wouldn't be right for your little friend to continue to bleed all over the room now, would it?" A little box was shoved through a hole in a

wall. Abandoning his post of not letting Mylova bleed out, America quickly ran over and snatched up the box.

.

"Hey~, a first aid kit...that's written in, uh, Maltese." America frowned and shrugged as he walked back over to use proper bandages on Mylova. While he

cleaned up the gash, the intercomm, or whatever it was, turned back on.

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"Idiota! You were supposed to-" It sounded as though there were people fighting on the other end, and no one quite got to finish their sentences.

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"-in English!"

.

"Your pair of-"

.

"I swear to-!"

.

"-on fire! Asshole!"

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"Give me le-"

.

"-god, if you don't-"

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"-microphone!"

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"Turn it off! They can still hear us!" The first clear sentence was of one telling the other idiots to turn off the microphone. America and Mylova exchanged

confused glances and then turned to stare up at the ceiling as the room became quiet once again.

.

"Estan loco..." Mylova broke the silence.

. _**(they're crazy)**_

"You could definately say that again, dude." America muttered in agreement and finished off by taping the gauze into place. "There you go, good as new!

You'll heal nice and quick now that it's stopped bleeding."

.

"Sabes, you're a really optimistic guy, América." Mylova sat up and rubbed the spot on her head gingerly, being careful not to open it again. "Where do you

get it from?"

. _**(you know...)**_

"That's a toughie." America sat down with his hands draped over his knees and thought about Mylova's question. "Certainly not Britain. France maybe? Naw.

I totally have France's looks, but that's basically it. The french dude is more narcisistic than optimistic." Mylova looked America up and down in an attempt to

find some sort of comparison between the two. All that was clear, though, was their eye color. Both had the same ice blue gazes, though France's eyes were

a slightly darker blue than America's.

.

"I am afraid I'll have to disagree with you there, América. I see more of a resemblance between Canada and France, than you and France." Mylova mused as

she watched the look on America's face morph into confusion. "Honestly, you remind me more of Finland and Sweden put together. With Finland's looks and

Sweden's eyes and strength." America contemplated that for a moment and tilted his head to one side like a confused puppy.

.

"Yeah...yeah I can see that!" America's eyes lit up as something clicked for him.

.

"So back to mi pregunta. Where do you get your optimism from? You've had a lot of influence over the years, América. There must be somebody!" Mylova

urged America, her tone inviting.

. _**(my question)**_

"Well~...there's someone, now that I think about it." America frowned and narrowed his eyes. That's when Mylova realized that his glasses were missing.

"Spa-"

.

"I hate to interrupt, but where are your glasses?" Mylova finally pointed out and America gave her a curious glance. His hand reached up on top of his head

and felt the air.

.

"Oh no...nononono!" America leaped to his feet and started to frantically search the room for his glasses. "No, no I can't lose them!"

.

Mylova watched the panicked American tearing up the room bit by precious bit out of desperation. Finally America gave up and sat down with his back

against the wall. A slight groan escaped his mouth and he stared at the ground for a good minute before looking up and giving Mylova a forced smile.

.

"Ah well, g-glasses get lost all the time, right? They always show up in the weirdest of places. For instance, one time-" Mylova stared in awe at America as he

described in great detail that he had lost his glasses once when he went to participate in a rodeo in Colorado, and then found them in the toilet that was in

his hotel room the next day. To be honest, she could have done without the mental image of America in a cowboy hat fishing out a pair of old glasses from a

toilet bowl.

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"Can you still see without them? You must, otherwise you would have noticed their disappearance immediately." Mylova pointed out softly. America was

making her feel a little awkward, what with all the talk of toilet fishing.

.

"Yeah I can...but those glasses are Texas!" Noting the confused look on Mylova's face as she tried to imagine the state of Texas managing to fit on America's

face, America decided to elaborate. "I mean, they represent Texas. I won them from Mexico after the Mexican-American War. You know, all the Alamo stuff?

It'll sound stupid, but they kind of represent an accomplishment in my life." America grinned and looked up at Mylova, who's face contorted into confusion at

the mention of the Alamo. "I'm not exactly the oldest country, you know. I feel like I still have something to prove. Both to the rest of the world...and

Brtn." (the last word was mumbled under his breath, so it was hardly audible)

.

"Yo sé, América. But you're older than Canada, sí?" Mylova couldn't help but add.

. _**(I know)**_

"Maybe, I kind of stopped keeping track of exactly how old I was at around the age of eighty. After that it was just a tedious effort. Boring as hell. The

absolute value of-"

.

"Nada?" Mylova finished.

. _**(nothing?)**_

"Exactamente."

. _**(nothing)**_

"A ver...I've been with you ever since the end of World War dos. Then I became a territory during the Vietnam war. So I guess I can say I'm about fifty,

maybe sixty years old." Mylova attempted to do the math in her head.

. _**(let's see...)**_

"You're young, just leave it at that." America laughed and leaned forward to ruffle Mylova's hair playfully.

.

"Well, so are you!" Mylova ducked America's hand and gave it a swat as it soared past. "Estás tambien! Pero estás más mejor tan mi." America gave her a

sneaky side glance and a grin spread over his face.

.

" Tú piensas se entienden español?" He asked her. Mylova just shrugged but got an idea.

. _**(Do you think they understand Spanish?)**_

"Maybe, no sé. No le pregunté." America could almost see the gears in Mylova's head turning.

. _**(I don't know. I didn't ask.)**_

"Qué es en tu cabeza?" America wondered aloud, then in English. "Is it some sort of escape plan? We need to get out of here."

._** (What's in your head?)**_

"Oh? Por qué? It's actually kind of nice in here, minus the blood on the floor, claro." Mylova got to her feet and quickly scaled the room. "Nice walls." She

tapped lightly on the walls and listened to them. "Decent flooring." She stomped on the floor, trying to tell if it would crack easily under pressure. "Lighting is

good. Not too bright, not too dim."

.

"Whoah there, dude. There's no way I'm moving in, so cut the house shopping crap." It was obvious to Mylova that America didn't know the real method

behind her observations. She was trying to find any weak point in the room, hopefully with indescretion.

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"If we cleaned it up and added some furniture, it would be a cozy little cuarta. ¿Qué dices?" Mylova turned expectantly to America with a smile.

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"What do I think? I think you're nuts with a capital 'N'!" America got to his feet and took a stroll around the room, making a few taps here and there. "Though

I'll admit, the walls are kind of nice." The message was loud and clear. America finally understood what she was doing and was now doing it himself. When he

met up with her as they continued to stroll around the room making random exclamations about how something might look nice somewhere and what kind of

wallpaper they could use (America shouted her down when she suggested flowers), Mylova looked straight into America's eyes and their silent countdown

began...in Spanish naturally. They knew that their combined strength could easily take down a wall. America was mainly worried that their captors had built

an anti-him room, with doors, windows, and walls built with some sort of super strength building stuff. That, and they probably had lots of duct tape handy.

.

"Uno!" Mylova finally shouted and both of them hit the wall with almost equal strength, America outing Mylova by just a bit. Which is why it made it even

more surprising when the wall didn't fall down, not even a crack was visible. Since the force didn't shatter the wall, damn Newton and his second law of

motion kicked in. Mylova fell over backwards and stared up at the ceiling for a good two minutes; stunned from the excess force that backfired on them. The

hero was lying flat on his stomach with his arms and legs sprawled out like he was making an upside down snow angel.

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"For every action..." America grumbled from his spot on the floor.

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"Hay una reacción igual y opuesto." Mylova sighed and gingerly hauled herself to her feet to go help America pry his face off the floor. Thank god there

wasn't an indentation from his face or they would have needed to call in a contractor to fix the flooring; before they could move in of course (that was going

to end up becoming a running joke between them). As Mylova helped America to his feet, their captors spoke again.

.

"Hahaha~! Oh my, I needed that laugh!" The person cleared their throat. "So, have you tested the walls enough or do you want to give it another go?"

Unsteadily, America tottered over to the wall and leaned against it. "I'll take that as a no. Oh I hope you try to escape through the floors. They're made of an

industrial grade steel, custom made for extra strength and to keep out America. Or in this case, keep in."

.

The laughter was so loud to Mylova's partially stunned body that she covered her ears. America just rolled his eyes angrily and shouted back at them with

some imbedded sarcasm, "And I suppose the ceiling's made of rubber, so no matter how hard we try we'll just bounce off it. Or even better, laser beams

that'll fry us if we manage to get past the rubber."

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"Don't forget the maneating shark," Mylova added bitterly. "No kidnapping is complete without a room with a giant shark."

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"Hey that's a good idea! For now, here take some food and go to bed. We're not going to be here all night you know." With that, the hole in the door opened

and two trays of food were shoved in. Quick as a bullet, America ran over and grabbed the hand before it could exit the room.

.

"Now listen here. I don't like being toyed with. If you don't tell me who you are and your reasons for imprisoning us, I'll break your hand off...and I'm not

kidding around." America growled softly and tightened his grip.

.

"Ah~! Please don't! I really like my hands! I swear I just work as a cook here nothing more and if I knew something I'd tell you but please don't take my

hand off! I have relatives in your country!" The mystery person had a familiar sounding accent, but it wasn't anyone neither the country nor the soon-to-be

state knew. With a sigh, Mylova strode over and looked out the hole. A terrified looking man was crouched over and shaking terribly.

.

"You wouldn't happen to be Italian now, would you?" Mylova asked the man.

.

"Si! Si! I'm Italian! Oh per favore, just let me go I like my hands!" At this point, tears were pouring down the poor man's face.

.

"América, let him go. He's telling the truth." Then to the trembling Italian she said, "Um, perdonami. Le mani sono molto importanti, sì?" The man nodded

frantically. "Hmm...si dovrebbe andare. Ancora, mi dispiace." America let go of the man's hand.

.

"Grazie~!" The Italian quickly fled the scene. America walked over to the one bed and sat down on it.

.

"That was a little, um, crazy." Mylova commented and looked away from America as he glanced up at her.

.

"When did you learn Italian?" America stared at her with a mixture of curiosity and awe.

.

"It's a romance language, like Spanish. It's really not that hard to pick up." Mylova began to explain, a little curious as to why the conversation turned on her

instead of staying on America. "Portuguese is my second best idioma. Brazil has been a good coach. Italian is my third."

.

"So~...you used Rosetta Stone?" America quickly deduced. With a sigh, Mylova nodded and America started laughing.

.

"It was a moment of weakness, don't judge me!" Mylova pouted and sat down on the bed next to America with her arms crossed stubbornly over her chest.

America just laughed and leaned back on the bed.

.

"So, you wanna fight me for the bed or what?" America said casually as though he said that all the time.

.

"It would be politer if you got your ass off the bed and let the lady be comfey." Mylova shot back.

.

"Okay. When I meet a lady, I'll do just that!" And with that, Mylova shoved America off the bed and fell asleep. A couple of hours later, though still the middle

of the night, Mylova awoke to the sound of a thud. She drowsily lifted her head and let her eyes adjust to the darkness. A shape on the floor glanced over at

her, eyes glowing in the dim light.

.

"A-América?" Mylova wondered softly. The figure placed a shady finger to their lips and said, "Go back to sleep." Too tired to object, Mylova laid her head

back down and promptly fell asleep.

* * *

First long chapter! Woot! *fist pump* So how did you like it? I love feedback and constructive criticism! Also, if I get a translation wrong please **tell me**!


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Hi everyone! I know it's been a while since I updated, but writing takes time! Thanks for being patient, I really appreciate it! ^.^ I hope you all had a happy Easter!

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And to answer a question from a guest, the dots separate the different conversations so they don't look squashed together...but if it looks funny to you I can try to work around with the layout a bit!

* * *

"Mylo, dude, wake up!" America shook her until she sat up and smacked him across the face.

"Yo estaba durmiendo!" She growled and threw the pathetic covers back over her face. America blinked once, still stunned from the quick reaction. Slowly removing the covers from her head, Mylova stared aprehensively at America.

"Lo siento, but I don't really like being woken up." She muttered and gave him a tiny smile.

"Agh, tú y mi both..." A new voice grumbled. Mylova sat up, immediately recognizing the voice. Leaning against the wall with an extra large bruise on his head was Spain.

"That's what I was trying to tell you." America explained with some enthusiasm.

"España!" Mylova exclaimed and bolted to her feet. She threw her arms around Spain in a near crushing hug.

"Ay!" Spain yelped and gave a shakey laugh. "That hurt mi amiga." The Spaniard gently removed Mylova's arms, from around his body, albiet reluctantly, and pushed her away.

"I haven't seen you since the Vietnam War!" Mylova enthusiastically wrapped her arms around Spain again, much to both his delight and dismay.

"How about we don't talk about that, sí?" Spain asked hopefully, his eyes tired but bright.

"Alright!" Mylova replied, all signs of sleepiness gone. "It's so great to see you though!"

"Yo! Happy reunion and all, but dude, what did you do to get in this hell hole?" America wondered and focused his attention on Spain.

"Oh come on, América, this place is more like a purgatory palace; not quite bad but not quite good either!" Mylova countered his statement and America acknowledged that with a nod.

"I-I'm not really for certain. Last I recall, I was picking tomatoes in my garden with Romano. Then I went inside to wash some of them so that Romano and I could have a quick snack. Next thing I know, I wake up here." Spain sighed, obviously a bit upset that he couldn't remember anything.

"Well then how did you get the bump on your head?" America questioned him further while dodging an annoyed swipe of Mylova's hand.

"That? Ha! Well apparently my captors thought it would be funny to place me underneath a table, so that when I woke up I would hit my head on the underside of it." Spain laughed and rubbed his head, wincing every time his hand passed over the bruise.

"Sounds like something you would do, América." Mylova turned and gave America a teasing grin.

"True," America admitted, "But it also sounds like something Prussia would do." Spain and Mylova silently agreed with America on that point. "Wait, you don't think?"

"No. Prussia may be weird, but he's mi amigo. He wouldn't do anything like that to me." Spain defended fiercly.

"Alright, chill dude!" America raised his hands defensively and leaned back a bit.

"Let's play a game!" Mylova shouted in an attempt to keep a fight from occuring. It certainly got the boys' attention.

"I say one word, you say the first word that comes to your mind. I'll start." Mylova leaned up against the bed. "Horse. Now you go, Spain."

"Caballo."

"Uh, you weren't just reciting the spanish word for horse, were you?" Mylova asked aprehensively. Spain shook his head. "Okay, now it's your turn, América."

"Cowboy!" America grinned and flashed a thumbs up.

"Gold," Mylova tried to keep from snickering as America mimicked a cowboy riding a horse, yelling yee-haw.

"América." Spain's eyes lit up happily as he remembered his main reason for colonizing parts of the Americas.

"What?" America wondered if Spain was berating him on his antics, and if he was he would put an end to it quickly.

"Mylova se dijo'Gold', so me dije'América'!" Spain grinned as he explained.

"Huh? Oh. Um...the hero!" America winked at Mylova, who rolled her eyes.

"Superman, that good enough for you América?" Mylova directed her word, though intended for Spain, at America.

"Idiota." Spain laughed as America's face went bright red, though with embarassment or anger it was hard to tell.

"Not me!" America said, using a phrase instead of just a word.

"Inteligente," Mylova said with as straight a face as she could manage. Spain on the other hand, continued laughing. America, still very red faced, went into a corner to sulk.

"So...so...so I suppose it's just tú y mi ahora, sí?" Spain managed to say inbetween laughs.

"Sí, I suppose so. What do you want to do now?" Mylova asked and sidled up closer to Spain.

"Um," Spain's face flushed a bit, "We could continue our game!"

"Sure!" Mylova grinned and nodded her agreement. "Dancing!"

"Russia." Spain seemed to almost regret it when he blurted it out; but Mylova didn't seem to care, she just went with the flow.

"Cold." She responded.

"Canada." Spain countered with a sigh of relief.

"Gentle," Mylova's eyes seemed to shine a bit brighter as she gave her word.

"Hair." Spain laughed as he saw the look on her face turn to bewilderment.

"Um, curls." Mylova had to think about that for a brief moment.

"Romano!" Spain sat straight up as he thought about his little tomate amigo.

"Curses," Mylova laughed and said. She remembered how many curses the older Italian brother could spout in less than a minute. So far his record in her eyes was ten.

"Ingleterra." Spain nervously shot a glance over at America, and sighed happily when America made no indication of hearing him.

"Australia."

"Koala."

"Kangaroo!" Mylova couldn't help but start laughing at her word.

"Rabbit," Spain just grinned as he watched Mylova's enthusiasm.

"Friend," America muttered from his corner. Mylova and Spain glanced over at him curiously but America stayed silent after that.

"I'm bored..." Mylova finally muttered. Then to the ceiling she shouted, "Do you have any board games we can play?" For a moment there was nothing and Spain stared at Mylova strangly, thinking she was yelling at the ceiling...or maybe Dio?

"Sorry." Came the magical voice from the beyond (as America and Mylova had taken to calling it).

"I don't like that game," Spain immediately replied.

"Humor us, we're bored too." A board game got shoved through the door, but the trio was reluctant to go get it. It was almost as if they were too bored to move. Finally Mylova sighed, got to her feet, and retrieved the game. The look of surprise on her face was priceless when she realized it wasn't Sorry, but it was, "Monopoly?" Mylova placed it down in the center of the floor and almost immediately America raced over.

"Dude, I love Monopoly!" He happily took apart the box and started setting up the game board. "I call the car!"

"I want to be the ship!" Spain exclaimed and started for the bag of tiny silver game pieces. Mylova just stared at the two boys.

"Come on, Mylo! Do you want to be the doggie?" America lifted the little silver dog and waved it around in the air for Mylova to see.

"Monoply's boring. Why would you guys want to play it?" Mylova scoffed as she wondered what made the game so special. Both boys stared at her in utter disbelief. Incoherent babbling was all that came out of their stunned mouths.

"You don't like Monopoly!?" America finally shouted aloud. Spain stared at Mylova wide-eyed as if he was seeing her for the very first time.

"It must be the longest game in the world! The only thing you do is go around a board, collect money, and buy properties. There's no end!" Mylova exasperatedly exclaimed. "San Rica, Agrilana, Dalaveos, and I have tried on numerous occasions to play AND finish a game. Es impossíble!" Spain and America exchanged grins, a silent message passing between them.

"You weren't around when Monopoly was invented, so of course you won't find it as special as we do." America, with mocking shame, shook his head and patted Mylova on the shoulder almost as if he felt sorry for her lack of enthusiasm over Monopoly.

"Lo siento Mylova, but I think it is time we teach you how to truly play the game Monopoly, no?" Spain purred and gave Mylova a little hug around the waist. And so it was that for over two hours straight (no bathroom breaks), Mylova was taught the ins and outs of the game Monopoly. With little bits of encouragement like "don't buy that", "oh sí! that's a good spot!", "hey, I want to buy that one", and "why the hell did I just agree to THAT?!".

"Hey~, this is actually kind of fun!" Mylova grinned as she collected another five hundred dollars from America.

"Dammit! How are you so good?" America grumbled as he rolled three doubles in a row and went straight to jail.

"Just be thankful we're not playing Russia. I don't know how he does it, but he manages to get every single property on the board," Spain hushed America and took his own turn. Five, and he landed on Boardwalk...one of Mylova's properties.

"¿Cuánto cuesta?" Spain dreaded the answer.

"Eight hundred." Mylova grinned and held out her hand. With a sigh, Spain mortgaged some properties and handed the money over to Mylova.

"True. I think it had something to do with him saying, they will all become one with Russia." America shook his head as he recalled those memories. "One weird dude, but he somehow managed to buy us all out in less than thirty minutes." Mylova's next roll landed her on chance and she got a "get out of jail free" card.

"Dude, you think I should stop praying that "street repairs" is the next chance card she picks up?" America asked Spain as he landed on free-parking and gained an extra two hundred dollars.

"Luck seems to be on her side today, América. You should probably stop praying." Spain grimaced as he handed over his mortgaged property in order to pay for his landing on Oriental Avenue, with the added bonus of a hotel.

"Are either of you listening to me?" Mylova interrupted the boys by waving her hands in their faces. They both looked up at her startledly. Neither of them had realized Mylova was talking until she snapped them back to reality.

"N-No, lo siento chica." Spain apologized and his face turned a hint red.

"I was saying that you guys could admit defeat now and spare yourselves the humiliation," Mylova offered with a sweet smile on her face. Spain sighed and ended up forking over the rest of his properties to her.

"They're all mortgaged anyway. Enjoy your shiny cosas, Mylova," Spain said and leaned back against the wall.

"Admit defeat?" America looked at her incredulously. "You must not know me as well as you think, Mylo. The hero never admits defeat!"

"Except when he faced Vietnam." Spain quickly covered his mouth with his hand in order to stifle his laughter at Mylova's comment.

"Hey! I just underestimated her, and besides...this isn't war. I'll find a way to kick your ass to the moon and back." America grumbled and moved, luckily landing on one of his properties.

"Pues, I DO like shiny things," Mylova smiled as she picked up Spain's game piece and moved it around in her hand. "Behold, the mighty Spanish armada!"

"That was kind of mean, amiga," Spain said with a faint smile as America laughed aloud. "I'll have you know that for many years it was I who ruled the seas."

"Yeah dude. And then Britain came along and kicked you down to number two!" America smirked and gave Spain a playful shove.

"América, it's your turn." Spain pointed out and America looked back to the board to find out that Mylova had landed on the waterworks, one of America's properties, and had payed him fifty bucks.

"Sweet! Rolling in the big bucks!" America replied a little too enthusiastically as if his sarcasm generator was broken. "Dude, here's your offer. Three hundred big ones for Pennsylvania Ave." Mylova considered that for a moment and then shook her head.

"Lo siento América, I can't let you get a Monopoly." She replied, a smirk playing on her face.

"Oh come on! Four hundred! How about four hundred?" America desperately started counting up his money as Mylova shook her head again. "Five hundred?!" Once again Mylova declined. Both she and Spain were finding it highly amusing that America was desperately trying to buy Pennsylvania from her and the lengths to which he would go.

"Fine, how about this?" America shoved over all his money, his face quickly turning on the puppy eyes.

"Oh I couldn't possibly..." Mylova fanned herself mockingly.

"All this for Pennsylvania!" America insisted and shoved the money in Mylova's bemused face.

"Oh I think he's muy serio, Mylova." Spain nodded with a very straight face, though you could see the utter amusement in his eyes.

"Hmmm~, te piensas?" Mylova wondered and gave her chin a little tap as she considered America's offer. "Sure, you can have it." America gave a whoop of glee and grabbed the property after he handed over the money.

"Sucker," Mylova muttered happily under her breath.

"What?" America's sharp ears must have picked up something.

"Nada!" Mylova said quickly and counted up the money. "Oh muchas gracias, América!" So about ten minutes later...

"I...lost?" America stared at the board in disbelief. Boardwalk with a hotel is a death trap, and he had walked right into it.

"Sí, but don't be too upset about it. It was, what's the word...inevitable." Mylova laughed as she counted her money. "I do believe I get to say in your face, yes?"

"Ah~...tengo sueño. Y ustedes?" Spain yawned and stretched.

"Sí!" Mylova started putting away the game.

"Yup." America blinked and fell over backward. "Yo captor dudes, can we have two extra beds in here?"

"No... only one." A few snickers were heard on the other end and a rollaway bed gently rolled through a hole in the wall, coming to a stop right beside Spain.

"Hey spanish dude, I'll fight you for the bed." America grinned and sat up.

"América, do you know how old I am?" Spain winced as he played the age card.

"Dude~, come on! I spent last night on the floor!" America complained unhappily.

"A mi tambien, América. Or did you forget that I hit my head because I woke up underneath una mesa?" Spain quickly countered.

"Well at least your table friend is here. Mine's back in Washington DC." Mylova shoved the Monopoly box into a corner and climbed into her bed.

"¿Qué?" Spain stared strangly at Mylova.

"Long story," Mylova dismissed and turned over so she didn't have to see the boys.

"Well, buena noche." Spain climbed into the other bed and settled in comfortably. Poor America just huddled on the floor and tried to get into a comfortable position. After about an hour of tossing and turning, America got to his feet and gently tapped Mylova's arm. Mylova groaned and rolled over.

"¿Quien?" She mumbled sleepily and blinked twice before recognizing him. "América?"

"Dude, I can't sleep." America complained and fixed his eyes on Mylova's.

"Mmpf," Mylova rolled back over, "Go back to sleep."

"That's the problem." America explained and poked Mylova in the back.

"Stop~," Mylova groaned and blindly swiped at America's face, missing by inches.

"Any chance you could, oh I don't know, move over a bit so I could hop into bed with you?" That sounded a lot less awkward in his head, and America half expected Mylova to say no. When she scooted over a bit and tightened the covers around her, America was a bit surprised.

"If you do anything stupido, I will kick you off." Mylova mumbled and fell back asleep.

"Um, thanks dude." America climbed up onto the bed with her and turned away so they were back to back. "Seriously, thanks."

* * *

There are so many things to translate, I am actually going to recommend having google translate opened in another tab. Most of this is basic Spanish, but I'll translate the harder ones for those of you who don't have access to a translator!

Yo Estaba Durmiendo= I was sleeping.

se dijo= she said

me dije= I said

¿cuanto cuesta?= What is the cost? (rough translation)

te piensas?= you think?

tengo sueño= I'm tired

y ustedes?= and you guys? (again, another rough translation)


	4. Chapter 4

Trying out some new formats! Sorry for the long lull in updates. The school year's almost over...finally...and I have two more days of finals left! I'm also trying to cope

with the fact that I'm going to be a senior next year. It means it'll be my last safety-net year. I'll be at the top of the school with my friends...now excuse me while I

mentally freak out. In the meantime, enjoy my next chapter!

* * *

At the absolute crack of dawn, a stereotypical camp wake up horn was sounded over the intercom. With a yelp, America rolled off the bed and hit the floor with a resounding thud. Mylova sat straight up in bed with a gasp of shock and then turned her gaze and stared quizically at America, who was busy rubbing the back of his head. Spain, well, he just pulled the covers up over his head and yelled at the horn to "va y joder sí (mismo)".

"Stand at attention!" A very authoritive voice shouted once the "song" was over. America, acting out of pure instinct, jumped to his feet and stood stiffly.

"Make me," Were Mylova's words as she yawned and flopped back down on the bed. America narrowed his eyes thoughtfully and then sat down.

"I don't wanna play your stupid games today." He grumbled and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

"Oh come on, America. We were getting along just smashingly and then you had to go and ruin it by saying no!" The voice complained with a hint of a taunt.

"Fuck off," America face-planted the floor and pulled his shirt over his head to use as earmuffs. "I'm going back to sleep."

"Does food entice you?" At that, a steaming dish of...oh my god I have absolutely no idea WHAT that stuff is! Well whatever it was, it was shoved into the room and America grabbed it. The look on his face told Mylova he was considering throwing it against the wall so she quickly stooped down and grabbed it before he could do such a thing.

"You don't want to eat that," Spain mumbled from underneath his bed sheets.

"Oh? ¿Por qué?" Mylova asked him.

"I can tell from just smelling it that it's no good." Spain uncovered his head and took a deep breath, then made a face. "Sí, no bueno."

"Hey! That took me an hour to make!" The same voice from before came back over the intercom.

"Lo siento, but you're a horrible cook." Spain said and buried himself underneath the covers again.

"You. Absolute. Ar-"

"Shut up!" A new voice growled.

"I don't-"

"No."

"Will you st-"

"Absolutely not."

"You won't even let-"

"Because I know what you're going to say."

"Idiot."

"Estan patético! Shut up about your stupido problemas already!" Mylova finally snapped. It takes a lot to irritate her, and she had finally been pushed to the edge. America's eyes widened as he realized how angry Mylova was.

"Um, Mylo?" He whispered softly.

"¿Qué?" Mylova turned to him and her eyes flashed dangerously. America cautiously got to his feet and walked over to her with his hands raised as if to ward her off.

"Maybe you want to take a deep breath," America attempted to calm her down.

"I will not calm down! These idiotas are irritating me to no end! I swear I am done!" Mylova turned angrily to the wall and started pounding on it. "Fin! Fin! Fin! FIN!" Spain looked up at the ruckus and for a moment he looked terrified.

"Hit the gas!" Someone said over the intercom. Then the world went fuzzy and black.

-/-/-

"Well this is unfortunate." A familiar sounding voice said. America moved his head and groggily looked up.

"Of~ course," America sighed and rolled his eyes. Sitting in front of him, rubbing his head and the back of his neck as though they pained him, was Russia. A slight movement to his right made America turn his head. Mylova's hand had twitched in her sleep. America looked around the room and saw that Spain was draped over the side of the bed as though he had tried to get up but had failed.

"Добрый вечер, Amerika!" Russia looked up greeted America happily.

"Yeah yeah, evenin' to you too, Ruskie." America shakily got to his feet and walked over to the door.

"I thought we have been over this before, Amerika. You do not call me Ruskie, I do not hit you over the head, da?" Russia lightly reprimanded the American. America started tapping lightly on the wall, much to Russia's amusement.

"Dude, I honestly could care less right now. I just want to get the fuck out of here." America replied and started feeling around the room for a soft spot. "Make yourself useful and find a weak point in the wall." Russia blinked in surprise at America's authoritative tone. Just because he had absolutely nothing better to do, though he was eyeing the Monopoly game in the corner, Russia decided to get up and help America.

"Mmm...no me gusta esos caballos. Yo quiero aquellos." Spain mumbled in his dream state.

"Pues, yo quiero tu cara." Mylova flipped over and fell to the floor. "Mierda!" Mylova woke up and looked around. "Um, Russia? ¿Qué estás haciendo aquí?" Russia fixed her with a confused look.

"She asked what you're doing here." America translated and continued his work on the walls. "If you start speaking in Russian, I will NOT translate. Just warning you." Russia just chuckled lightly and gave Mylova a sweet smile.

"I was, how you say...kidnapped." Russia explained and gave America a side glance. Said nation lifted an eyebrow and shook his head. America never said anything about Russia translating for himself. Mylova just nodded, the tired look in her eyes saying that she wanted to go back to sleep.

"Yo dude, I'm gonna need some of your help." America turned around and said to Russia.

"Oh? Pochemu?" Russia gave America the puppy eyes he was so famous for.

"Because I asked you politely, and you know I don't do that very often." America muttered and kicked the wall.

"I take it you want to kick down the wall?" Russia walked over and stood next to America so he could examine the same point on the wall.

"Um, da." America said in Russian (on accident...he was trying to say "duh" but failed because his mindset was in Russian). "Count of three. Ready? One...two...three!" Both America and Russia kicked at the wall at the same time in nearly the same spot. Their combined strength made the wall shudder but not cave. "Grrr...one, two, three!" They kicked again but to no avail.

"Dammit! They really did make this anti-me," America grumbled angrily and he started pacing the room agitatedly. By this time Mylova was recovering from the effects of the knockout gas and had stood up to formally greet Russia. The two were exchanging handshakes and words when America exclaimed angrily and kicked a chair all the way across the room. Mylova and Russia looked over startledly.

"This is a fucking mistake! They wanted me, and they got me. But they made a mistake, oh ho they made a mistake." Russia stared at the ranting American, his eyes wide. "They kidnapped someone of importance to me. Dude, when people mess with my states they pay the goddamn price!" Mylova blinked in surprise as she realized America was referring to her.

"Amerika are you alright?" Russia asked America, not even bothering to hide the concern in his voice. Russia had never seen America ever get this angry before. He knew captivity did weird things to a person's head; something that Russia had a lot of experience dealing with and dealing out.

"I'm stuck in a prison with a Russian, a Spaniard, and a state. The food sucks, I don't have a bed, the bathroom is crap, and there's no freaking toilet paper. Oh yeah, I'm just peachy, Russia." America replied sarcastically.

"You complain about no toilet paper? You should see the, what you call, restrooms at my place." Russia muttered to himself. Mylova walked up to America and placed her hands on his shoulders, forcing him to look her in the eye.

"América you have dealt with worse. If it's really that big of a deal to you, you can have my bed-"

"Absolutely not!" America interrupted but Mylova just continued.

"What is the worst thing you have ever had to do?" Mylova asked him. For a moment America stared blankly at her, and then his eyes saddened as a memory came to mind. "Good. Now is this situation as bad as that one?" America shook his head. "Alright. Now on three, all of us kick the wall. Sí?" America blinked and nodded; following orders in bad situations was something he did well when he didn't want to be the hero. Right now, all he wanted to do was get out.

"Uno!" The three of them faced the wall. Spain stirred lightly and his eyes weakly fluttered open.

"Dos!" Spain attempted to focus his eyes, and when it worked he had to do a double take.

"Uh, Russia?" Spain wondered aloud.

"Oh? Привет, Spain!" Russia smiled and waved over at the sleepy Spaniard.

"Tres!" They all kicked. BOOM! Spain jumped out of bed and stared at the wall as it came tumbling down.

"Fall out!" America quickly ordered and grabbed Spain as the rest of them high-tailed it out of the room and down the hallway. Alarms started blaring but America somehow managed to stay focused as he barked out orders of "left!", "right!", "jump!", and "don't run into-, too late". Mylova had run into a wall but recovered quickly enough to curse a couple times before getting back to her feet.

"Dead ahead!" Mylova shouted as she saw a doorway.

"Uh, dude could you maybe not say dead?" America asked her and Mylova shrugged. They burst through the door, and apparently luck was with them because it led to the outside.

"Freedom!" America shouted happily and threw his arms in the air jubilantly. After running another mile, Mylova shouted at America to take a break...and he did, thank god.

"Oh dios mio! The sky!" Spain shouted and flopped over onto his back to stare up at the clouds.

"Well, we're safe here." Mylova sighed with an air of relief. Then realizing she still had the bandages on her head, she ripped them off and tossed them aside. All America saw now was a tiny scar where she had cut her head, which seemed to have healed far too quickly.

"Oh хорошо!" Russia smiled and clapped his hands together. "Now, where exactly is 'here'?"

* * *

Gracias for reading! Please forgive me...this is such a short chappie.

**Translations:**

_va y joder sí (mismo)= go and f*ck itself_ (I search long and hard for this translation...part of it coming from my own knowledge...but I've gotten so many contradictory translations that I'm going to get down on my hands and knees and beg a native Spanish speak to please please please help me)

_Estan patético= You guys are pathetic_

_Добрый вечер (English: Dobryy Vecher)= good evening_

_...no me gusta esos caballos. Yo quiero aquellos.= I don't like those horses. I want those (over there)._

_Pues, yo quiero tu cara.= Well, I want your face._

_Привет (privyet)= hello_

_хорошо= good_


End file.
